


Disembodied

by DoomsdayMadeMeCry



Series: Intrulogical microverse [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Prinxiety - Freeform, Caring Logic | Logan Sanders, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, First Time Gem Fusion, Fluff and Angst, For real my poor son, Gem Fusion, Intrulogical, Kid Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, King Creativity, Kingceit, Logan being a nerd, M/M, Mad Scientists, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prinxiety - Freeform, Psychological Trauma, Remus needs a hug, Science Husbands, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Tentacles, Tumblr Prompt, intrulogical fusion, unstable gem fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22485097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomsdayMadeMeCry/pseuds/DoomsdayMadeMeCry
Summary: Remus and Logan are having some chill time together, and being obnoxiously cute (albeit in their own way) while they're at it.Then they end up fusing for the first time and sh*t goes down. And, oh, boi, I mean it.“So irrational. You’re horrible”.“I love you too”.Behind the glasses, a pair of eyes opened wide. Shocked."Wait, you what?"Remus leant in for a kiss, but that would have to wait. A sudden burst of light took over the two of them.For the love of everything, check the notes for triggers.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: Intrulogical microverse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567513
Comments: 34
Kudos: 167





	1. Part 1 - Cha-cha-cha-changing

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 - Cha-cha-cha-changing: In which Remus is trying to make out with Logan, but a certain nerd is too distracted thinking about marine biology and ethology. Both attempt and barely succeed at not acting absolutely smitten with each other. For once, Remus chooses the definition of smitten that does not entail gifting Logan with major internal bleeding, only minor injuries. Oh, right, they also fuse together. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> ON THIS CHAPTER: Mentions of violence, mild mentioned gore, Remus being Remus, Sympathetic Remus, beginings of a panic attack (please tell me if you find anything else).  
> ON THE FIC: PTSD, MILD SELF-HARM (sorta, it's non-intentional), mentions of violence, mentions of gore, REMUS BEING REMUS, Sympathetic Remus, Sympathetic Deceit, TALK OF TRAUMATIC EVENTS, TRAUMA, MAYBE UNSYMPATHETIC PATTON (not really, just mentions of the split and his role. Not tagging it because of that, but I put it here anyway just in case) (IF I MISS ANYTHING TELL ME.)

Logan’s pensive face contracted into an expression of confusion. He selected the portion of the text that interested him using the necessary keyboard shortcuts and pressed control u. 

“Right here” Logan began to say to Remus, who, coincidentally, sat by his side staring vacantly at the distance with a sinister smile painted on his face. 

“Yeah?” the aforementioned leant towards Logan paying attention at the screen’s display. 

“In this part, where you’re telling how the murder was carried out and, subsequently, how the body was hidden, is in disagreement with the evidence found at the crime scene on page 51”. 

Logan stared at him. Remus’ glance shifted repeatedly from Logan to the screen and back to Logan, his mouth open in a comical ‘o’. It seemed as if the brain-cells of the hyperactive goblin were playing quite a lonely game of ping-pong. Echo included and all. 

“The shot was fired at a medium distance…” Remus nodded in agreement, staring directly at him, eyes wide open , while casually placing his hand on Logan’s thigh “but, according to what you put, the corpse’s wounds would match a point-blank type of shot more closely” Logan took a deep breath, and, in a titanic effort to finish making his point, he went on ignoring Remus’ advances. “If you choose to switch it to a point-blank shot, pay attention to including gunpowder burns and that the sizes of the entrance and exit bullet holes…” 

The mouldy diva placed his chin in between the curve of his shoulder and the beginning of his neck. Remus’ warm breath hit the side of his throat like waves. Logan peered at him out of the corner of his eye. He approached the situation the same way anyone rational would when encountering a wasp: by standing still. Very still. 

“Remus, are you paying attention?” he asked keeping his expression stoic. 

“Of course I am!” Remus exclaimed as he fully moved away, taking the laptop with him in a swift snatch. 

Logan attempted to get it back with little effort and less success, resigning himself from trying any further. 

By the time he had started rolling his eyes Remus had already placed the laptop on the coffee table. 

Well, if you’d call that place. 

He left it deliberately on the corner opposite to him, half hanging off the edge. Logan would never admit that he found Remus’ infuriating ability to find the balance points of objects somewhat impressive, even if he only used it in service of riling people up. 

“But, I’ve got to admit it’s hard,” he said, tentatively getting closer “when everything you say is so smart…!” Remus prepared himself to give the proper dramatic effect to what he was about to say by lowering his chin the faintest bit and setting an intense glare in place “...and sexy”. 

Logan blinked in the same manner as that man from that Vine Virgil made him include in his study of notorious memes. 

Remus’ voice sank an octave into muted laughter. A conceited smile rose his lips. 

“Fuck, I think focusing is harder than what’s in my pants” his eyes went for a walk all over the room and ended up, how unexpected, getting back to Logan. 

The aforementioned could not help himself from analysing the manner in which Remus always supported everything he said with theatricality, to a certain extent. All of his body language worked in favour of adding effect to his words. 

Sometimes Logan wondered why he chose to ‘date’ that sewer alligator, then, things like that reminded him of the reason. 

For the lack of a better word, Remus was weird as fuck. There was nothing he enjoyed more than oddities. The strange usually made itself the best subject of study. And heaven knows he’d love to spend substantial amounts of time deciphering Remus. 

“Lo, pay attention to me”. 

Logan looked at Remus, who’d just teleported to the sofa whilst he entertained his own thoughts.

“Remus, did you lick my neck?” he asked, based on the wet layer he felt on his skin. 

“Hmmm, and your ear”. 

Remus’ tentacles began to caress him lazily, while he held him and bit on the base of Logan’s jaw. 

“We agreed you wouldn’t bite me. Your teeth are unusually sharp, and, even though I find them fascinating, I still want no scarring”. 

“That takes all of the fun” he complained sounding quite happy with himself. 

The sixth tentacle went around Logan’s ankle, stopping for a second to place a sucker over the protuberance of the bone, absorbed the air and tugged lightly on the skin. After that, it let go and the tip knocked a few times on the bone’s head. Logan watched fascinated how the member palpated the bone and surrounding areas. 

“What would you say your tentacle is doing?” asked Logan. 

“Which one?” 

“The one on my left ankle”. 

“I dunno, something kinky I hope”. 

This ridiculous man, Logan thought to himself. A chuckle may or may not have been included within the musing. 

The tentacle twisted as if looking at them and, after a curious pause, it went back to its business. 

“It almost looks as if it was trying to recognise the area. I might go as far as to say studying it, even” Logan analysed, more thrilled by the theories his head formulated than the hand infiltrating under his shirt placket. “How intriguing”. 

Remus smiled as he glided the tip of his nose in an ascending movement over the splenius capitis, ie. the back of Logan’s neck, and imagined himself sectioning the flesh, uncovering said muscle. Who would have thought he’d find Logan’s anatomy lessons so interesting, moreso taking into account sex wasn’t even a part of most. 

“One of my tentacles liking your ankles? Big news. You might be getting easy to impress, sugar”.

“I’m totally serious” he answered looking at Remus right in the eye.

“Alright,” Remus nodded “if you don’t mind, I’ll keep on groping you a little as you explain it to me, but you got my attention”. 

Logan smiled. 

“I believe yours and octopi’s tentacles are quite alike” he observed enthusiastically. 

“No shit, Sherlock. They look the same!” he laughed “I mean... that can’t be all you have to say, so what’s exactly your point?”

Logan readjusted himself on the seat. He found it hard to deal with the uneasiness his own emotions caused him, specially when he could see Remus putting up so much effort on not going off topic and listening to him. Maybe one of these days he’d suggest Remus to rip out his heart, literally. 

“Yes, but, while I always knew they were ressemblant in appearance, I was hesitant to affirm that to also be the case regarding behavior. You see, octopi have an incredible neuronal system, curiously enough, sixty per cent of their neuronal receptors are located within their tentacles. Can you infer what that entails?” 

“Not really” he interrupted the rest of what he was about to say with a burst of kisses on Logan’s eyeballs “what does it mean?” 

Logan’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t help but smile. How distasteful. He ought to keep these emotional outbursts at bay, otherwise staying in the same room as Remus might drive him metaphorically insane. 

“It means your tentacles possess a certain degree of autonomy. They have, figuratively, a mind of their own. Of course, they cannot analyse complex situations or solve abstract problems; but, they could be able to memorise mechanics and recognise their environment. Although, I’m not aware as to which extent yours match the autonomy of the ones from an actual octopus. It’s even possible that your tentacles reach a superior degree of independence”. 

“Hmm” he mumbled as his tentacles explored Logan’s skin “I can feel, taste and smell through them, if you’re interested, and you know what I get from that?”

“What?” Logan replied, intrigued. 

“Firstly, it gets me off! But, secondly, it gets me to know that you taste and smell great. Wish I could lick your brain with my tentacles”. 

Remus sat on Logan’s lap, both hands on his shoulders. His tentacles lost themselves caressing him as they pleased. He found not being in the mood to rip the flesh of that three course menu bite by bite strange. But, for some stupid reason, dismembering Logan as if that was the backroom of a butcher shop felt unbecoming. How weird. 

“I could arrange that, but certainly not for today, trepanation requires far too many preparations to have it ready so soon. Besides, I would like to take the chance to teach you more about the nervous system, given the recent discovery. I believe you could benefit from…”

“You are terrifyingly smart” he said looking at his eye with something akin to fondness. “I’d love to lobotomise you with a straw and gulp your brains in”. 

“I…” 

Logan’s eyes had closed for once, giving up on observing and analysing everything within their field of vision. 

Why did he trust him like that? He’s never given him a reason to. And this is supposed to be the smart one. He could kill him right now, quite easily. Put an arm through the dork’s abdomen and conjure his morningstar. Remus bit the inside of his cheeks, razor sharp teeth piercing the skin with little to no mercy. 

The nerve. Logan must have known how much of a stupid idea that was. And yet… Frustrating, cute, fearless little bitch. 

He let himself fall on Logan’s lips, for once, he didn’t humour the impulse of breaking each other’s teeth with the impact as per usual. Logan smiled, probably glad that Remus had decided to make that encounter somewhat civil.

Remus found that comfortable. The smile of his preferred nerd, his tentacles giving into the contact as they felt like, no complaints nor violence, only the occasional aggressiveness in their ministrations that would be expected from him. Something keeping him in character. Odd, how odd. He didn’t like a single bit the fact that he enjoyed it. 

“If your eyes are feeling shy today I hope your hands get friendly instead”. 

The comment brought a smile to Logan’s surface level, Remus liked that, but he felt even more please as a pair his favourite long and precise hands scattered under his clothes. 

“You tease! Grab my butt or I won’t have you coming until New Year’s Eve!” 

“Bold statement for someone who has me do all of the work”.

Logan threw him against the armrest of the sofa. He loomed on top of him like an ominous shadow. Remus shook with anticipation. That stone-like being gave him freeze burns, made him fall on his ass with shock. He’d never seen someone so gruesomely attractive. A part of him begged for Logan to rip his arms and munch on the stumps. 

That was the right kind of comfortable. 

“Or perhaps I should interpret that you intend to postpone…” he made an effort to remember the proper term “uh, topping until then. Should I add it to my calendar?” 

At that instant, Remus felt like a man sentenced to the saw, one half with a nervous crisis and the other with the biggest erection of his life. 

He began to laugh and threw Logan off the sofa. Everything was thought out perfectly, because he knew Logan had a good grip on him and would fall with the nerd. 

“Do you now intend to tell me I’ve fallen for you?” 

“Bitch, you fell because I pushed you, and that’s ten times more satisfying”. 

“And yet you let yourself be dragged down by me. I have an excuse, what’s yours?” 

“What can I say, nerd, I guess you must be like the Big Bang, because you’re a singular gravity”. 

Singular gravity or however that was called. Remus knew he most likely hadn’t got the technical label right; still, hey, he was trying really hard, thank you very much. 

Nicely enough, Logan must have counted the intention, as he wasn’t correcting him. 

Actually, that was off. 

The smartpants eyed him in a… funny way… best to avoid vomitive sugary terminology, that was part of an area of his repertory that had dust on it. What a day of discoveries. For a second there, Remus wondered whether or not whoever he’d eaten would still be alive in his stomach, because his entrails weren’t behaving. 

He began to laugh like a maniac, well, like himself. Logan’s expression remained the same. 

The realisation hit him as delicately as one of his polite greetings to Roman. His brother would have started to sing Disney songs about the whole thing. Uuugh, he felt like throwing up on Logan there and then. Better not. He gathered up strength to keep the nausea under control, because the notion that, in spite of finding it disgusting, Logan would still be down for whatever did not help him feel any better. 

When he finished digesting that truth the only thing left was an aftertaste of existential crisis and a ridiculous feeling of happiness. How horrible!

“Would you let me open your stomach up like a door and stir your guts with a spoon, till I get to your vertebrae? I’d like to borrow one to make a fancy necklace” he asked, showing a smile that on any other person would have been a million dollar one. Coming from him, it would make kindergarten children run away, closely followed by a couple of terrified teachers. 

That teacher, though, held his gaze like nothing and frowned interested.

“Oddly specific. Did you have that particular one in mind for a while?” 

Fantastic. That was a regular Tuesday for Logan. Maybe Remus had begun to lose his touch. 

“Nope. Came up with it just now”. 

Logan sighed, hard to tell whether with resignation or amusement. 

“You suggest ridiculously disproportionate things when you get affectionate”.

“Affection? Maybe this time I do want to kill you for real”. 

“How considerate of you to ask for permission. When should I, presumably, schedule my funeral for?” 

Remus laughed. He loved it when Logan felt like indulging him and be fun… no, now that he thought about it, he played along more often than expected. Oh, wow. 

“I…” Remus froze in place. He frowned, opening his eyes wide. 

“Remus, you appear to be disconcerted. I hope my retorts didn’t cause this”. 

A couple of tentacles decided to place themselves on both sides of Logan’s face, holding it for no particular reason. Probably, Logan was able to tell by his expression that he’d found that involuntary gesture and its connotations somewhat worrying, because his own face reflected that same worry. 

“I don’t really want you dead”. 

“I know”. 

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t”. 

“If you wish to snatch one of my vertebrae may I suggest L2 or L3? Those from the thoracic area would be more of a hard task to remove, given the location. I’d appreciate keeping my lungs in their original position this once, specially since you want to open an incision on my abdomen, instead of being practical and going for my back”. 

Why did Logan have to act this cute when he was feeling unusually vulnerable? The others called Dee one sneaky bitch, well, it looks none of them knew Logan that well, then. 

“Nothing impresses you anymore, huh?”

“I’m acquainted with your extravagances”. 

In an attack of whimsy, Remus took back control over his tentacles and, grabbing Logan’s hands, he used some momentum to pull them both up. He stood there, half hugging him, smirking like the asshole he was. 

Logan’s confused face might as well be the best thing in the world. 

It could improve though, and it probably did when Remus placed his head next to the teacher’s, almost tenderly so. Even better, the position rid Logan of any chance at seeing his expressions.

“What is this?”

“Take a wild guess” answered Remus, quite pleased by his last minute choice.

“I’m not sure, this position gives you better access to my back. Perhaps you’ve reconsidered and you’ve set us this way so you can remove that vertebra properly. T6 can be a good option”. 

“No, guess again”. 

“You might be planning to stab me in a gruesome way, I figure, given that you’re feeling particularly emotional today”. 

“I’m not getting the stabby feels right now, try again”. 

“Then you might be sulking because I pointed out that your outbursts don’t surprise me as much, thus, it’s most likely you’re planning a surprise attack”. 

“You’re half right on the first part. But no, no surprise attack this time”. 

“Are you certain? Fracturing my skull with some piece of medieval weaponry tends to improve your mood”. 

Remus laughed. He found it cute, almost warming, that Logan knew him so well. 

“I’m in a weird mood”. 

As if to underline his previous statement, he placed one arm around the back of Logan’s waist, whilst the other snaked its way up diagonally across his upper back, finally resting a hand on Logan’s left shoulder. 

He squeezed him. A hug.

“So it appears”. 

Remus hummed in agreement. 

“Are you okay? This behaviour may be concerning coming from you”. 

In response, he started to rock them in circles, following the rhythm of a hummed melody that incorporated sounds that shouldn’t be humanly possible for Remus to make. 

“Are YOU weirded out yet?”

“Positively distraught and captivated”. 

Logan heard his dance partner laugh. Right after that, the madman took him by the shoulders and pulled apart for the full lenght of his arms. 

“Good”. 

Holding him with a pair of well placed tentacles, as to avoid Logan from flying off, he started to spin them on full speed. In an unusual display of foresight, Remus vanish the coffee table before they crushed their legs against it. 

“Again, what is this?”

“The only kind of shit you wouldn’t expect me to do” Remus shouted, because, apparently, spinning could stop someone who followed along in front of him from hearing.

“And what would that be?” Logan rose his voice as well, because, even if it was physically unnecessary, the emphasis felt appropriate. 

Always the drama queen, Remus stopped them all of a sudden, hooking Logan off from the waist, as if they’ve just danced a tango and neither felt the nausea threatening to spill. He laughed. A lot. Seeing Logan blinking frantically while trying to focus on a fix point of the room was priceless. 

“Not acting like a madman for a second”. 

In response, Logan laughed as best as he could without vomiting. 

“You ran over racoon, I feel like I’m about to pass out”. 

“Lol. Same”. 

“So irrational. You’re horrible”. 

“I love you too”. 

Behind the glasses, a pair of eyes opened wide. Shocked. 

"Wait, you what?"

Remus leant in for a kiss, but that would have to wait. A sudden burst of light took over the two of them. 

A suction. 

The comparison that first came to mind was a black hole, distorting everything around him, swallowing them both… him? That gravitational singularity must be part time tailor, because, apart from giving him a change of outfit, it had torn Logan and Remus into pieces and sewn them together. Or something similar. Said like that, it sounded way less pleasant than it actually was. The metaphor of the black hole worked well in a general sense, personifying on a tailor simply turned it overly complicated and imprecise. He needed to work more on those.

Oh. He just got distracted. But he had noticed, which was an improvement. 

“This… is different” his voice sounded strange, less nasal than usual, a bit more serious, more expressive too. 

He licked his teeth, as if the enamelled bones could give him an answer. Although, it stood true that the distribution of teeth within the oral cavity could influence diction. Sidetracking a little again, with info dumps this time. 

Soft. His teeth were clean, thus, soft. Slightly pointy fangs, neat, good bitters. Hmmm...

“Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Did Peter Piper pick a peck of pickled peppers? If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where’s the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?” he said very fast. 

Nah, still, perfect diction. 

What was specifically happening with his voice? And, as he was asking questions pertaining strange circumstances, who had dressed him? It couldn’t have been the black hole from the metaphor, aside from the apparent fact that a black hole could never make a good tailor with so much aggressiveness, he was missing a pair of hands. Something told him that would be crucial when sewing tailored clothing. 

Distracted again! 

He ought to take his brain out of his skull to do some rewiring. Brains don’t have wires, he reminded himself. Well, positronic brains surely would get a nice set of wires. Nice book reference! Could veins be considered wires? If so he could hang his brain for easier examination using his intracranial vascular system. 

“Uuuugh, focus!” he slapped himself. Not literally, that would be a bit rash. Maybe later. “What am I overlooking here?” 

He looked at his hands for answers. Why, though? They were just his… no, those weren’t his normal hands. Some things were missing. Things that, at the same time, were out of place. No scars to be found, nor writing calluses. His hands were unusually and naturally strong. Curiously long, precise, as it should be. Maybe not. 

“Oh! That’s it! It’s me I’m forgetting!” he exclaimed, happily throwing his arms to the air. 

He abandoned his position, sitting with both legs open, knees flexed ever so slightly, in favour of standing up.

With a swift move of a wrist, he made his weapon of choice appear out of thin air: a… bowcaster? 

Yes! Exactly! Range weapons were strategically dreamy! Besides, in a close confrontation you could still whack someone in the head with it quite effectively. He placed it against his shoulder aggressively. The fabric of his waistcoat absorbed the impact quite well. His lips curled up. Nice. 

Right! What had the black hole dressed him with? And, almost more importantly, had it even remodeled those sinful good looks of his… theirs? Logan was so handsome, it’d better have kept that. Wow, how vain. 

Another quick hand move conjured a standing mirror. 

He panicked, then smiled. Breathing rushing faster. That image, he’d never seen something as fascinating. Everything was so delightfully… wrong. That wasn’t him… them… him. 

What a blast! He felt exhilarated. Stimuli hit him like a metal baseball bat. There was barely enough time to drench himself in all that information.

He had a mineral-like mix of green and brown painting his irises, or, what anybody would just call hazel eyes. The colour was normally hard to see with the glasses he wasn’t used to wear, but this rectangular pair of rimless glasses allowed for it nicely. What lovely eyeballs. He wanted to take them off. No. Well, yes, but in a nice kissy way. They began to feel itchy. Why was he crying for? 

He had just turned into this astonishing being! Everything should feel marvelous. It did feel that way… right? 

Just take a look! He wore mostly black. Okay, good, habitual dark clothing. Albeit it was a bit more fancy than normal. He couldn’t make up his mind regarding whether he found it too dramatic or sober. The waistcoat’s embroidery swirled in intricate patterns. Paired with that narrow dark sea green tie, it gave him a nineteenth century vibe. Granted that the initial seriousness got lost a little because of the bishop sleeves and the fabric puffing at the shoulders. The high neck was a nice touch. Definitely.

The hairstyle didn’t convince him. His curly hair was contained combed to the back, but with little success. 

He ought to stop crying. How was he supposed to enjoy that if he wasted time on… he fought the nausea. Where was that sensation of panic coming from?

No, no, no, no, no. He was drowning. In what?

He was great. He was. Honestly so. 

But not now. He needed more time. 

“I’m not sure I wanna go” said… Victor.

In a flash of light Logan and Remus flew ejected out of him. 

“Where’s Morbidity?” he said, willing the headache away. “Oh, of course, we are Morbidity. That’s why Victor is nowhere to be found, logically”.   
  


* * *

Here's an aesthetic of Victor I made: 

  
[My fic only Tumblr, if that interests you](https://doomstypewriter.tumblr.com/)


	2. You matter to me, I promise you do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two: You matter to me, I promise you do  
> In which shit goes down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am, finally back after two months!!! It's been a lot. I had to extend this a chapter if I wanted to upload something any time soon, seriously, it's getting long.  
> Anyhow, thank you so much for all the lovely comments you've been writing! 
> 
> TW: Panic attack, anxiety attack, PTSD, self-deprecation, unsympathetic Patton (kinda, it can be understood as such from something Remus says), violence against an undefined being created by Remus which could be somehow interpreted as self-harm (?). Those are the main ones, if you see anything that needs to be added to this list, please, tell me.

* * *

Remus shook on the floor. He felt close to vomiting and not in the fun way. No. No. NO.  
He pulled his hair, without a better idea as to how to stop himself from tearing off his head and putting it in between the plates of a hydraulic press. His lungs mocked him, trying to turn into a leaf blower in a room with no trees. Air just went by. He kept on drowning.  
Everything was asking him to run away.  
No clue where, nor how.  
Only to run away.  
Damn the danger and even more the consequence.  
He couldn’t think. At all. And that was a lot to say coming from him. His neurons jammed like a 10 year old printer whenever he tried to calm down, not even the constant bombardment of dark ideas succeeded on distracting him from that sensation. He was dying.  
He got on fours like an agonising dog. The pressure of his knees against the floor didn’t manage to to fully ground him to the real world and hurt him for the right reasons. That wasn’t happening. It couldn’t. He pushed with open palms against the wooden flooring, almost in protest, the world should stop shaking. Oh shit, it wasn’t the world…  
No, no , no. Not in front of Logan.  
“Remus?” speaking of the devil.  
Logan stood up quickly, at the time he mentally listed symptoms.  
Remus dragged his palms across the floor, taking them towards his lap. A film of sweat marked their trajectory over the parquet, like snail slime. In a matter of seconds Remus had folded up into a shaky human ball.  
The steps of Logan’s socks could barely be heard. Their unhurried pitter-patter resounded as an insensitive response to the situation. That sound didn’t show the dubious character of Logan’s body language.  
When Logan’s hand landed softly on his back, his body unfurled in a spring-like motion. He recoiled back scared and disoriented. It was a deer blinded by headlights looking back at the teacher, asking why he'd left him in the middle of the road and what was he doing by his side when a truck was coming.  
He’d never felt as guilty for something, and he didn’t even fully know if he had provoked it. Seeing Remus like that cut him in two, it hurt so badly he wished that first part wasn’t a metaphor. Not that he hadn’t ever stayed with Remus when he entered a fowl mood or when he felt a little low. The universe knew he’d witnessed enough darkness and pain coming from him.  
But never this way.  
He’d never made himself vulnerable. Confessing secrets? Yes. Remus had shown him his heart, but never his weaknesses. Now that he mentioned that, the idea of Remus’ wellbeing settling as one of his own weaknesses rang true. Not exactly what he needed at the moment. In fact, absolutely not.  
“Remus, I’m concerned. You haven’t previously exhibited this behaviour, my intention is to help” he trod lightly.  
‘What a fucking understatement Logan, you look terrified, you lying juicy bitch. I don’t deserve your fear and much less your care’. Remus’ thoughts twisted his everyday doubts and weaved them with his own personal bullshit. The King, the stupid, stupid King.  
“L-l-li-ar”.  
“I do want to help”.  
“You’re noo-ot just!” he gulpled for air “Concerned”.  
Logan gave himself a mental slap and conjured an inner scowl. Get a grip. It seemed as if he’d totally forgotten that whole part about ‘talking to him to determine what was happening’. Judging by, well, the obvious, Remus was suffering a panic attack and the last thing he needed was Logan gifting him his own panic on a deferred basis. In a display of a visualization exercise, he grabbed an imaginary handful of his feelings and shoved them out of sight. His foolish self had to evaporate.  
“What do you need me to do?” Logan adopted the even voice he used with Virgil during this kind of situations.  
‘I’m dying, I’m dying. Dying, dying dying’.  
“Stand, f-f-f-furth-er, awa--y”.  
His eyes opened wide. Logan took a deep breath. He looked away for a second as he nodded.  
A step back.  
One.  
Two.  
Three.  
“I’m so-s-s-o-rry” he said laughing, his head sweeping upwards in an arch, nose pointing to the ceiling.  
The laughter could barely be distinguished from the tremor. It was probably all the same thing. Remus crushed his upper arms against his ribs, disengaging everything lower than the elbow from the tension of the pose. His hands shook mismatching the rhythm of the laughter. It was as if his entire emotional state had the hiccups.  
“I’m s--rr-ss-rr-y! I promise. I pro-pro-mmm-i--se… it’s not-not-on not on purpose. Don’t-don’t be sc-sca-a-red. Not you. Not…” his mind screamed ten thousand times worse than on average, managing something resemblant of proper speech would be a pain. A literal one.  
The one time he wanted, needed, to reassure someone, and he couldn’t do it.  
He never could. Right? That was Roman. That could have been the King, him, them. Him. The King. And Logan was… Logan was worried sick. He could easily tell by looking, months exploring his microrreactions had given him that superpower. He would have been mad at him for underestimating him had he not been almost shitting himself with mortal fear.  
“I know you’re not, Remus”.  
“I’m n-no-ot. I’m not! I’d never...!!”  
“It’s okay, I know”.  
Remus gave a cry in response.  
“Please, are you fine?”  
“Nope!”  
The air escaped Remus’ nose in consecutive pants and some other high-pitched whimper. His eyes began to water. No. He didn’t want to cry and give Logan an even more pathetic of a show.  
Stop crying.  
Stop.  
But that wasn’t something he could really control. He retaliated in a scream of frustration as he tried to change the appearance of the room. All furniture got stuck between the place Remus had in mind and the living room, like the visual equivalent of playing a song on a scratched record.  
The place blinked in overlapped images and intersections of vernacular objects with nightmares and the undefined. Remus snorted in yet another attempt to vanish hysteria out of his system.  
Didn’t really work.  
He set his arms in a cross, left hovering above the right, and both hands extended in preparation; then, he made an outer sweeping motion. That was to fix the glitching issue.  
Of course, it didn’t get rid of it.  
Performing transformations on an environment wasn’t precisely a piece of cake when one is suffering a panic attack.  
Not that Remus thought so.  
Instead, he willed his morningstar so he could destroy everything as a way to cope with his feeling of incompetence. Or, in more Remus-like words: wreck the fuck up of everywhere.  
He invoked his morningstar with the rage of a nordic deity, because what was about to happen would live up to their mythology. ‘Logan, better avert your eyes, things are about to get metal’, Remus managed as a side thought. His expectatives about the meeting with his dear medieval weapon were lightly foiled when it materialised upside down: spikes on the handle and mace-like head, but smoother than a freshly ripped out tooth licked clean.  
‘Dying, dying, dying. The King is dead. I’m dead. There’s no point in me’.  
Not that that was a real problem, his hands sure could make place for the unexpected spikes, the skin would have to collaborate one way or another, rupturing if needed.  
It didn’t get to that, sadly, the pain sure would have distracted him from the psychological ordeal. Perhaps trying to spare Logan from more despair, his hands morphed strategical holes to accommodate the newly found sharp protuberances. Survival of the fittest, he had always had high hopes for his hands and their many talents.  
Back at the onslaught though, the blows fell as that ping-pong-ball-sized hail that could and would devastate crops. Remus’ kept hitting at some unnameable black slimy creature with a biblical plague’s amount of force. The thing in question shrieked and whimpered in agony.  
With no beeswax available, Logan could only hopelessly watch that morbid greek siren and hear the cries of the poor creature he mistreated. This enticement, nevertheless, didn’t come from a place of awe or as the byproduct of seduction. Truly, he could only watch as Remus poured his everything to the outside, into a literal metaphor of his inner turmoil; because, one could not forget that a side’s room reflected the side himself…  
It would be best not to interfere as Remus let it out. At least, so Logan decided.  
After what felt like hours, and could have definitely been, sweat drenched him to the point the morningstar simply slipped from his hands. It hit the floor loud as thunder. His scream followed right after. Not yet, he needed to keep the violence going in order to stop feeling pathetic.  
The punches he threw at the thing had no effect, it didn’t complain anymore, fists didn’t compare to the pain caused by the morningstar, regardless of the lack of properly located spikes.  
Remus let a shaky breath out. His eyes watered all over again. Tears mixed in with sweat, little to do about it. Sucking in the snot and blinking repeatedly didn’t cut it either.  
A half-cry left his throat.  
“No!”  
He cried to the choppy sound sprinklers made. Breathing got in the way just right to make him appear less stable.  
“Ha, ah, ha, a, a” Remus swallowed a big gulp of saliva as he cried “I’m n-n-o-ot hi-him. I’m not!”.  
Ever the sabotaging little bitches, his knees gave away and he fell to the floor. Unbelievable, you’d think spending that much time on them would give them some resilience, but that’s what you get.  
He shook and crumbled apart. Not much else he could do.  
“Remus, based on your enjoyment of physical contact I believe it would be helpful if you allowed me to touch you. I won’t unless you tell me” Logan spoke up after 33 minutes of watching his partner post-fusion. “Please, I understand you may not be able to speak right now, so make any sort of gesture to indicate consent”.  
Normally, he prefered to keep everyone away during this situations. Even when he and Virgil were besties, the former (uhg, that word stung) dark side just sat a few inches away and guided him through his own routines. Deceit was no go to when it happened, not that he didn’t care, as much of a bitch as he was, he cared, and deeply. Dee just performed better at dealing with threats or the aftermath.  
But with Logan… fuck it. Contact from him was as comforting as butt-nakedness.  
He gestured right away. ‘Sure, come bitch, pick up the pieces, apparently I can’t even do that on my own now’.  
Logan rushed to his side. ‘The self-control it must have taken him to keep still for most of it…’ Remus thought bitterly.  
The teacher dragged himself across the floor and crushed him in a hug.  
That left Remus mentally awed and physically still crying like a baby.  
Leaning his back on Logan’s chest was something akin to therapeutic on a spiritual level. Granted, he still trembled like a headless chicken bleeding off until cells lost all oxygen, but having him, specifically, holding him was nice.  
‘You do love him so it adds up. Whatcha’ gonna do’ Remus thought. A bittersweet laugh may have been mentally added to that musing as well.  
The soft coughs mixed with moaning made him vibrate against Logan’s body, had his grip been any weaker he’d probably have rebounded a bit.  
Feeling him close, breathing calmly, gave him a rhythm to adhere to. Something to tie him to reality.  
After a while, his weeping drowned in gulps of air. He imagined himself as a fish out of water, jumping pathetically due to lack of oxygen, but, instead of on the pavement of the docks, next to Logan. The panic in choked crying was something he’d always deeply detested, but it usually arrived as the prelude of simple and plain exhaustion, ridding him of any more intensity or despair. Just as it snuffed out, Remus went limp.  
“Can you follow my breathing? It will aid you on decreasing the dizziness you must be having”.  
As always, Logan was absolutely right, and the room appeared to be tumbling because he hadn’t bothered addressing the whole hyperventilation issue.  
“This happened because you hyperventilated. It is fine. I am not blaming you, I want you to understand the cause to reassure you, you’re not dying. This is unfortunate, but completely normal”.  
Remus breathed in deeply and let the air out in a shaky sigh. His lungs wobbled through the rhythm his nerd settled like ramshackled steam train.  
“Would you allow me to return the room to its original state? I care about you approving, but, besides, you know I cannot make any changes here if you do not agree”.  
“Mmm”.  
“I’m not sure as to what you meant. I will attempt to vanish the… glitches… can they be considered glitches? Out. I’ll be gentle. The moment I feel resistance I’ll assume you don’t want me to and stop”.  
The blink of an eye. That’s what it would have taken the environment to turn back to its original state.  
Not to say it didn’t change fast, it did. But, what was laying around them was no more than a decaf version of how Remus liked it. The attempt wasn’t lacking in study, only focus, it definitely wasn’t as if Logan could do miracles and Remus wasn’t quite available to indicate that, on the wall, the bull’s eye’s views were the submarine rift back in the depths of his plot in the Imagination; instead of the well that store the corpses used in his stories’ mock-ups.  
Truth be told, when Logan and him came together nothing stood the same. Not in the sexy way. In spite of the bitter side of it, the second obvious one, he didn’t want things to remain as they were. Ever since they got together, he as if someone actually gave a damn. A statement wasn’t particularly kind towards Dee, but fuck that bitch, they had far too much of an attention whore complex to feed it even more. Not everything was going to be about them.  
Logan let his chin fall on the top of Remus’ head. The hit went unnoticed for both of them. Too tired to register it, too used to it to complain. Were Remus in his place, he’d have chewed on Logan’s hair. The teacher was very obviously not Remus, and, still, he managed to keep surprising the very agent of entropy over and over again. He kissed the spot. That mouth, exhausted as his owner, remained like that. Remus felt the breath come and go, tangling in his curls, at the same pace as his own breathing.  
He felt safe.  
Fuck.  
He couldn’t afford that. Wanting comfort, closeness. Not because he was ‘above that’ as Logan believed for himself, a load of bullshit if you were to ask Remus, because it didn’t fit him. Remus just did not deserve any of this. Much less coming from tin-can man up there.  
Something precious. So much it defied logic’s very existence.  
Could the King have deserved it?  
“Nope”. ‘Yes he would have. And you know it’.  
“Hmm?”.  
Logan’s confusion came as the confirmation that he had spoken out loud.  
“Baby doll, when it comes to a lover, I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e” Remus let the first notes out with the thinnest voice. What he’d sang was true, but Logan could do better. “Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh” that would have worked on Roman, he would focus on the song. Instead, Remus’ thoughts were like onions. Unlike on Shrek, the deeper the layer the scarier. “I'm the only one of me” it didn’t help that all of those thoughts went on all at the same time. “Baby, that's the fun of me” but yeah, that was the whole thing about him.  
“Did I leave the room to your liking?”  
Remus blinked twice.  
“No. But I don’t think the room cares”.  
“I want you to be comfortable”.  
“Well, the bull’s eye’s wrong”.  
“May I fix it?”  
“Hmm”.  
He felt Logan huff. Oh, how he hated having to assume. Still, he changed it back to the way it was ‘supposed’ to be.  
“Is there anything else?”  
“I like the top of the back of my chairs to be covered in blood”.  
Done.  
“The spines of the books on the shelf should be facing the wall”.  
“You’re a monster”.  
Remus smiled.  
“You wanted me to be comfortable”.  
“I did say that”.  
“You’re not a hypocrite, are you Lo?”  
Begrudgingly, the books zapped into their (cough, cough, incorrect) position, letting some of the nightmares pressed between the pages be in plain sight.  
“You did it on purpose”.  
“I didn’t trust you to collaborate if I asked directly”.  
They stood quietly for a while. Holding each other as the remnants of the storm began to settle.  
“You had a panic attack that derived into an anxiety attack”.  
“Virgil had something to do with this? I’m going to kill that fucker… once I take a nap”.  
“Anxiety attacks aren’t Virgil-exclusive”.  
“Oh, yeah? Then what, do you have them?”  
“Let’s not talk about that, besides, that’s not my point”.  
‘Yeah, let’s ignore the implications of that’.  
“Then what’s your point?”  
“That it’s okay. Anyone can suffer panic attacks, so it goes with anxiety attacks. The manner in which you place your books makes you a monster, not your panic. You are not to blame for something you have no control over, and it does not make you a burden. Remus, you’re never a burden, I haven’t thought so a single time. I cannot say this is entirely normal, not everybody goes through that sort of episodes intensity-wise, but your behaviour regarding it is. Following that thought, the fact that this isn’t common for everyone is just of statistic relevance, you’re an individual, thus, what applies to most people doesn’t have to apply to you and that is fine. I don’t need you to follow through the rules of normalcy. I’m perfectly content with the way you are”.  
“You seem to be the only one”.  
“Falsehood. So is Deceit”.  
“Look, the fact that Dee can mimic anyone doesn’t make them a shit-ton of people. Also, they don’t. They keep on complaining about everything I like to do”.  
“I complain about things you do as well, and that does not mean I don’t enjoy your company. You can be very uncivil at all times, Deceit is in their right to voice out their discontent, just as you do regarding their need for attention. That does not equate to them not liking you”.  
“Fuck, why do you always have to be right?”  
“It is statistically impossible for anyone to always being right, but I get really close”.  
Remus felt tempted to answer ‘You get me really close all of the time and throw me over the top too’ but decided against it in the last moment. He was missing the energy to make out with him. Why flirt if you can’t emotionally commit to it?  
“Would you like to talk about what happened? It might help you and I’d like to know if I triggered any of it”.  
“Yeah”.  
Logan looked at the infinity with the face of an introvert when the phone rings, or worse, the doorbell. Truly, his goal was to help Remus. For once in his life, he could try not to mess with the quick flow of things. What was he trying to tell him? There were three main ideas in what Logan had said: 1. Do you want to talk? 2. It can help, 3. Am I guilty? What was he answering to? Two and three were implicit questions. The logical would be to assume him to be replying to one, the explicit question, but, knowing Remus, he might as well be answering to something Logan had asked yesterday just to get on his nerves.  
He was going to develop a migraine with all the muscular tension.  
“Nerd, don’t expect the answers you want if you ask the wrong questions”.  
“For Newton’s sake”.  
“If you complain at it when I write so can I when you speak, sugar”.  
“You have no sense of timing, but I shall concede that retorting using my own words was a good move” the shear brilliant stupidity of his… something, was enough to bring out a tiny smile to Logan’s face.  
Remus simply shrugged, an unbecoming gesture, as if there was nothing more to say. Remus not having anything to add! Gripping his shoulders, crossing an arm over the other to do so, Logan caressed the protruding bones in circular motions with his thumbs. The symmetry and repetition pleased both of them. It came as a confirmation of sorts, that the situation and Remus’ apparent emotional exhaustion were fine, valid. Logan didn’t really mind. How could he? All that mattered was their wellbeing, after all, he was the side of well defined priorities.  
“Why did you react like that?”  
Silence could not frown, everybody knows that, but, had that being possible it definitely would have. Remus held onto what his hands found the closest, that being Logan’s elbows. He stirred in place, snuggling more in between the teacher’s legs; pressing, yet again, the chest against his back like a book stamp. The implications of that were clear, but went unmentioned by them. Logan laid his cheek on Remus’ scalp.  
‘You’re safe’ he thought. Although, it was unclear which of the two did.  
“It’s the King. I just… I wish he was being eaten by maggots instead of me and Roman.” after saying that, he frowned and then followed up rolling his eyes. “Quit tensing up, fuck grammar! I don’t care if he’s told you the story, he’s wrong. The prude’s probably never mentioned the real stuff, just the pg 13 parts, and most of it was my department of things, so he must have told you a telegram’s worth of a tale”.  
Remus buried himself between Logan’s arms. It was warm, he relished in the sensation. Oh, fuck, he was turning more stupid than he was already to begin with.  
“Roman has mentioned the King every now and then, but, as far as I know, he has never entered into details. Regardless, I would not be biased by Roman’s perspective, I’m aware your points of view tend to diverge. You can rest assured. Come on, follow my breathing”.  
‘Safe. I feel safe’.  
“He… when we fused it felt like back then, when I… when he died. I, no, we were born, Roman and I. Happy about the order?”.  
“I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t care about grammar right now”.  
“Oh… um. I don’t know what to say, I’d get a boner if I wasn’t so done for. Sorry, maybe later”.  
Logan sighed.  
“You were talking about your birth”.  
“Yeah. I don’t get why people talk about it like it’s something beautiful. The baby literally appears covered in blood like a wrinkly, pink and squishy version of the creature from alien. I mean, sleep-deprivation-wise the baby’s technique is way better. They’re also immune to an alien growing inside them, cause they’re too small for that, they can scream for hours with no vocal damage, everybody is terrified when something unusual is up with them... I wish I had been one, I’d have killed the role! But I’m just this… thing. Roman’s grown to be more than half a corpse, he’s a proper side. And me… sometimes I think I’m the stinky one because I’m the part of the King that’s still rotting”.  
“That is not true. Firstly, you do not smell, the only reason you’re associated with odour is because of the ‘dirty’ connotations of your interests, and said adjective is used metaphorically. As long as you don’t think of yourself as the smelly side you’re not, Remus, you get to define yourself as you please”.  
“How can I? The only reason why I exist is because Patton took a meat-cleaver all the way down me… I mean, the King! Well, he actually took the King’s battle axe, which, let me tell you, is so twisted! Like, wooow, you wouldn’t expect Morality of all sides to have it in him, but he can grow a pair when needed! He... no, Roman and I just fell torn apart on the floor like a cracked up coconut, but instead of a coconut it was the King’s skull. It’s hard to remember”.  
Logan frowned as if something had called his attention. Which would make sense, because all of what Remus was telling him would worry anyone, regardless of how ridiculously explicit he tended to be. No, this was more specific.  
“How would you say that felt like?”  
“Oooo, you want the gory details?” Remus got all excited for a second, but then immediately proceeded to deflate like a poorly made souffle. “I… I… don’t recall those well. I know that I didn’t see it coming, when the axe hit me. It didn’t hurt. I couldn’t see the guts spilled or anything. It was like ‘it’s over I guess’. And I wasn’t me anymore” Remus bit his lip, looking downwards intensely. Not again. The breath he’d taken went out shakily. “That was… scary”.  
“Remus,” Logan tapped on his shoulder a few times. “Remus, you’re here. We’re in your room and I’m with you. You exist and you matter. Take a breath in, come on, follow me… good, through the nose. Perfect. Now let it out. Everything will be okay”.  
No. Nothing was okay. Remus imploded internally, trying to gesticulate, but the embrace making it impossible.  
“Fuck! Why… why are you like this? I don’t deserve this! I’m not him anymore! I didn’t get the good bits! I shouldn’t feel this way about you!”  
“You are entitled to your feelings, and there’s not any means to measure what someone deserves, only what the other person is willing to give. I am willing to do this for you, it’s no trouble. You are in control of your thoughts. Shoulds are of no relevance, the only reality is what is”.  
“You don’t get it, tin man, do you? I love you! And it’s not in a sexy way, nor an I would rub my face against your bronchi as you bleed off kinda way. It’s plain. Boring! As literal as you. And I’ve just realised and I don’t know what to do with it because it makes me happy! I don’t deserve it! Moreso, I should not be able to feel something so fucking vomitively bright because I’m not Roman!” he wanted to cry when he said that. The truth, once stated, could sting more than a bone-melting viper bite.  
Logan held his breath as if he was on the other side of the bull’s eye in the room. He lacked the social skills to answer correctly to it and, even more, the stomach to assimilate it. Evidently, he had heard it well the first time, but, like any decent scientist, any regularity was favorable. The question being: favorable to what?  
“Remus…” he replied in a low voice “I care about you. You matter to me. You do” he finished saying, feeling as if he was avoiding the gaze of someone who couldn’t see him.  
Remus’ hair caught onto the moisture. With every droplet a chill went down him as the trail of tears above his head. He got hugged tightly again.  
Vulnerable.  
Safe.  
“Roman’s katana and my morningstar are both made from the King’s battle axe, you know? The blade was casted into the sword and the handle was left to me. When we fused… I wasn’t me anymore. It didn’t feel like when I… he died. But I can’t ever help it, it reminds me of it. After we were born, Roman and I were… messed up. Completely fucked in the head. Having it broken does that to you. We missed being us. Fuck. Him. It’s him... was! It was so hard not being the King anymore. We fused. But no black and golden suit was to be found. So we kept trying. Until it hurt. Nothing will bring him back, will it?”  
The heartbreak in Remus’ tone in the last question had something akin to childlike, as if he was asking an adult to disprove something horrible.  
“I don’t think so, sorry”.  
“I… I know he’s dead. The hit. It’s always like a pounding in the head, over and over again. I wish I could shake it off onto something. It always feels like I’m not me. Am I so bad? Why does Roman get the right to be important and I have to be the reject? If we had ever been babies I would just have been the vanishing twin”.  
Addressing the self-deprecation would not do, Logan realised. He reorganised his thoughts, adjusting them to a more appropriate strategy.  
“Sorry, I think I was partially wrong about the panic attack. You did have one, but, now that you’re telling me this, what happened may have been a case of reenactment”.  
“A what?”  
“With the experience you describe, the fact that you find it hard to remember, you saying that when we fused you felt as if the King was dying, after unfusing, you looked lost, as if you were elsewhere… when someone goes through a traumatic event, their state can worsen up to the point when they may suffer episodes in which they feel all of those things, known as reenactment”.  
“Okay, we did know I was crazy, so you’ll have to work harder to surprise me”.  
“Remus, you’re not crazy for having that happen to you. Honestly, taking into account the impact that the King’s death’s had over you, it’s perfectly understandable”.  
“You don’t think I’m a freak?”  
“Oh, yes, I do, but not because of that. And, for that matter, it doesn’t make me care any less about you”.  
Okay. That was too much. Remus felt vomit clog up his airways. No. He knew Logan not to lie, he never saw the need to, which was problematic because Remus had no idea on how to reconcile what he was hearing with all of the negative thoughts he had about himself. New plan: deflection.  
“I still don’t feel like I deserve to even be spit on by you. Although, I’d like that”.  
“Well, people in your situation show the tendency to reject comfort from others”.  
“Lo, you’ve been holding me like a snake wrapping around an asphyxiated rabbit for an hour, I let you comfort me”.  
“That was not my point, but now that you mention it, I can disprove it. We do agree that rejecting is the opposite of allowing for something. By thinking you do not deserve to feel good, you are rejecting to feel good. Something can only happen within your head so long as you believe in it. Even though my intention is to express affection, and you don’t object against it, you don’t allow yourself to feel good about it because you have the belief it is something that should not happen to you. Not only that, but you are rejecting comfort from yourself, as your feelings make you happy but you still believe that should not be either. You punish yourself by doing so”.  
“Oh, I punish myself in many ways, I can get my nipple clamps and show you”.  
“Deflection won’t stop me from shedding some light onto your cognitive distortions. But, further beyond those, this self-punishment and your feelings of inadequacy, given your experiences, are quite possibly what is known as introjection. Introjection is a process based in the internalisation of external factors, such as other people’s behaviors, into oneself. In your particular case, you have internalised the pain the, let’s call it split, caused you and thus keep on inflicting it onto yourself ”.  
“That’s not the kind of masochist I am, dork”.  
“You’re all kinds of a masochist, Remus, and some are healthier than others. The bottom line of what I am trying to convey is that you are worthy of love, because it’s not a possession or a prize, it’s an abstract concept that is professed freely. Would you suggest I am not worthy of it because I wasn’t intended to feel?”  
“That is bullshit and you know it”.  
“Then, as you kindly decided to put it, saying that you do not deserve such basic things as the happiness and comfort that can be derived from love is ‘bullshit’. I know you view yourself as a fragment of the King, but everyone is nothing aside from copies of our ancestors’ genetic code and that does not make us any less of an individual. Your background, the pain you feel, doesn’t make you unlovable, because it cannot define you as long as you think so. This views are belief-based, this feelings of inadequacy will persist for as long as you believe them to be true. I am aware of how many things run through your head. So let some of my words in there too. You are more than the byproduct of somebody else, you are valuable and you matter to people. To me”.  
“I… I don’t believe you”.  
“Then I’ll prove it for as long as it takes” Logan neglected adding a ‘duh’, he knew enough about timing.  
“You can’t be serious, how can you be willing to do that to yourself?”  
“When we unfused I was scared, because I thought I had hurt you. I perceived you as in danger. By doing so I realised you’ve turned into a priority, for me work is a priority, efficiency, order… not someone, yet here you are. You have been a priority for a while now, I’d say”.  
‘Wow, he might as well have asked me to marry him. I’m too done to figure this shit out now’ Remus thought.  
“Holy shit. I need to rest after that”.  
“Then what do you say we go to your dormitory and take a nap? I would appreciate the sleep too”.  
“Yeah, lets go before the carpet eats us”.  
Finally, Logan let him go. Remus looked upwards in amusement, seeing that face of confusion he loved so much on him.  
“No, seriously, we’ve been here for too long, it can do that”.

* * *

In case you're wondering what the king looked like in my fics: 

  


Is this me shamelessly promoting my fanart? You'd be correct if you assumed that. 

[My fic only Tumblr, if that interests you](https://doomstypewriter.tumblr.com/)


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